


Blurbs From The Life of B. Wooster

by jackie208



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Drabbles, Female! Bertie, Gen, again only in some of the drabbles, character death only in one or two of them and it's mostly implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8555947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackie208/pseuds/jackie208
Summary: A collection of 100 word drabbles focusing on Jeeves and Wooster each one inspired by a randomly generated word. Originally posted on Live Journal but actual new content will probably be added soon.
Edit: New content is now added starting with chapter 6 :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Death**

The fire was raging around us. It would not be long until it reached our safe haven. I looked at my master, trying to concentrate on his face and not the wound that marred his body. For once, there was nothing I could do. There was no hope.

“Go to sleep, sir,” I murmured.

Some of the fear vanished from his eyes at the sound of my voice. “Will…will you come too?”

“Always.”

“Very good, Jeeves.” he smiled, his eyes flickered shut, and I felt his body go limp beside me. I wrap my arms tighter about him and wait.

 

**Power**

I never was one for armies and such rot. Anyone with enough of the green stuff could produce one. It didn’t take skills or brains to have that kind of power, though I suppose it might take a bit of both to keep it. I don’t much admire brute force either. Just because you can break a person’s spine doesn’t mean your right, what? No, this Wooster prefers a more subtle form of power, the type that’s almost invisible but quite strong. I suppose that’s why I can’t help but admire Jeeves even when I know he’s working against me.

 

**Measure**

He turned to me with a worried gaze. “Jeeves, why didn’t you accept his offer? I know how much you love traveling.”

I thought of my master’s kind heart and gentle spirit, how even now he is concerned for my happiness, how to him I am more than just a valued possession that could be bought with money and promises of travel. I am a friend to him, one he has come to depend on. He needs me, and that is worth a thousand cruises.

“He did not measure up to the required standard,” I answered simply.

He smiled, relieved.

 

**Injury**

“Jeeves!”

I turn around, barely holding in a sigh of frustration. “Yes, sir?”

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“I was merely fixing your supper, sir.”

“I’ve hired a cook to do that. You should be in bed.” His tone is stern.

“It is only a minor injury, sir.” I argue. “I am more than ready to return to my duties.” “

Minor?” He gazes incredulously at me. “There was so much blood…”

Understanding dawns. Sometimes it is better to give in. “Would you prefer if I return to bed sir?”

The relieved expression on his face is worth it.

**Tornado**

I was only gone for about an hour. The marketing had needed to be seen to.

The sound of singing mingled with the occasional shout greeted me upon my return, and it was with some trepidation that I opened the door. The flat was a disaster area. A broken vase lay shattered on the floor, streamers and various other decorations occupied every other spare space, and several drunken young men were singing at the top of their lungs.

My master stood in the middle of all this, looking helpless, until he spotted me. “Jeeves! Help me throw these blighters out!”

**Nun**

“This is absolute rot! I refuse to be dressed up in that… that…”

“Costume, sir?” “

It doesn’t even count as that, Jeeves. I repeat, I refuse to don such garments. Can't you come up with some other scheme?”

“I fear it is the only way, sir.”

“The only way?”

“I can think of no other.”

I gave Jeeves a stern look then. Sometimes, I think, despite his horror of brightly coloured clothes, he enjoyed making a spectacle of me. “Are you positive, Jeeves?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was nothing for it then. With a sigh I picked the nun’s habit up.

**Mattress (Female! Bertie Au)**

“Please, Jeeves,” I patted the bed. “There’s enough room for two.”

The man recoiled from me as if I’d suggested he’d join me in cannibalism. “Miss!”

“I can’t stand the thought of you sleeping on the floor, Jeeves. And I don’t think we have to worry about being proper anymore, seeing as I’m an unmarried woman traveling alone with a man.”

My plea had no effect. “Your aunt has appointed me your guardian on this journey, Miss. I shall not break that trust.”

I sighed. Aunt D’s matchmaking plans hadn’t taken into account the full strength of Jeeves’s feudal spirit.

 

**Mistake**

Mr. Wooster was no longer himself. There were no more cheerful words from him, no more singing at the piano, no more going out to his club. It is the most I can do to convince him to eat.

The anger he’d displayed at first has vanished, and he merely gazes at me with tired eyes. I had thought it had been a mere infatuation, like he had showed in the past. Therefore, I had acted accordingly, firmly believing, or perhaps hoping, that it was his wish to remain unattached.

I begin to wonder if I have made an mistake.

**Frost**

“Jeeves!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Come and look at this.” His voice is a mixture of concern and wonder and it's with some curiosity that I join him by the window.

I look but can see nothing that would interest him. “What is it, sir?”

“The frost Jeeves! It's almost covered the entire window and it's not even winter yet!”

I smile slightly. “The frost often makes an appearance in the autumn months, sir, however, the sun melts it. You arising early this morning has allowed you to see it, sir.”

“So we aren’t going to have a hard winter?”

“No, sir.”

**Uniform**

If one has read Mr. Wooster’s stories one is familiar with my stance on certain items of clothing and their unsuitability for the young gentleman. Over the years my master has bought various hats, cummerbunds, spats, and waistcoats, all of which were not acceptable in the least. I have dealt with these in different ways, sending some back, giving others away, or waiting for my master to give them up out of gratitude. In extreme cases, involving atrocities that shouldn’t exist, I have burned them.

How I yearn to do the same to the soldier’s uniform he has brought home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Joke**

They had told me that there had been an accident with a gun, and I having no cause to do otherwise, believed them. My heart racing, I desperately ran into the room.

Only to find my master alive and well.

Relief flooded me followed shortly by confusion, then anger as they began to boast about making me show some emotion. It was only the bewildered look on Mr. Wooster’s face and the knowledge that he had not been part of the scheme that allowed me to bear it.

My wounds were further soothed when he furiously threw ‘the blighters’ out.

 

**Handbag**

“Bertie, darling, grab my handbag please.”

It was no easy task mind you but I managed not to cringe. How had the woman gone from Mr. Wooster, to Bertie, to darling in five minutes? Still honor and perhaps fear of certain aunts prevented me from telling me her to fetch her own bally handbag.

I reached for the thing only to have fangs sink into my hand. Now one does not expect purses to bite, so I gave a quite understandable yell and leaped backwards.

“Oops,” the woman giggled. “I forgot poochy was in there.”

I groaned. Where was Jeeves?

 

**Spark**

The wet wood did not lend itself to making a fire, but I was not going to let Mr. Wooster remain in the damp without some form of warmth.

“Let me have a go, Jeeves.”

Dubiously, I handed the matches over. We had a limited supply and could not afford to waste them.

I admit to feeling somewhat surprised when he not only managed to keep the match alight, but light the wood as well.

He grinned triumphantly at me. “I always have been good at setting things afire, though most of the time its an accident,” he added ruefully.

 

**Moon**

The moon is said to have inspired many romances, and it’s a known fact that Miss Strophershire is certainly romantic in her inclinations. Perhaps it was remiss of me to suggest that Mr. Wooster take a walk about the grounds that evening.

In my defense, I could not have known that Miss Strophershire would be walking there also, or that she would see my master in the moonlight and become enamored with him. Since it did occur, however, I felt it my responsibility to rescue him from the engagement.

The tie he allowed me to destroy was an unexpected benefit. 

 

**Store**

Though sometimes I am loathe to admit it, Jeeves always gets his way in the end. So it was only somewhat grudgingly that I agreed to go on a world cruise. If Jeeves wanted it so bad there was no point in denying him it.

Sometimes I wished that I had.

One gets the impression that Jeeves knows everything, and what he doesn’t know he can find almost immediately, but even he didn’t guess what would happen if we set foot on that boat.

No I am certain that neither of us knew what would be in store for us.

 

**Perch**

  
I’d been informed that Mr. Wooster had taken a walk about the grounds, and had therefore gone to find him. I admit I did not expect that when I did find him he would be high up in a tree. Dangerously high.

“Sir!”

“Jeeves!” he cried joyfully and almost lost his hold on the branch he was clinging to. “I’m stuck. I’ve been up here for ages shouting my head off, and was just about to give up when you came along. Could you help me down?”

“Yes, sir.” I would ask questions after he was safely on the ground.

 

**Beetle**

The vase had been smashed, the table turned over, and the rest of the room didn’t look much better.

I turned to Jeeves. “How on earth did you know she was scared of beetles Jeeves?”

“Her lady’s maid happened to mention the fact to me in passing, sir.”

“Well done Jeeves!” I grinned, but the smile faded as a thought struck me. “Er…Jeeves you do have a plan for catching the little blighters again don’t you?”

Jeeves hesitated, actually hesitated! “I regret I underestimated her fear upon seeing the creatures sir. I had not counted on her spilling the container.”

 

**Comb**

I tried, but the bandages kept me from even grabbing the thing properly. With a frustrated cry I knocked the comb aside. Now I’m not a chap who minds being taken care of, if I did I certainly wouldn’t have hired Jeeves. But nobody likes to be completely helpless, and I was currently as helpless as a newborn baby with his hands tied. I glared down at my own hands.

I didn’t notice Jeeves until he was standing beside me, the comb in his hand. “Allow me, sir.” He spoke gently, “the burns will heal given time.”

I only sighed.

 

**Reason**

Why? It seems like such a simple word until one really bothers to take a close look at it. I wished it had never been invented, though I suppose Jeeves would just find some other way of getting his meaning across. Jeeves always did.

“Why, sir?” he repeated, and I flinched at the confusion, and pain in his eyes. A confused Jeeves was something I’d never expected to see, and for me to be the cause of it…

It was too much for me to bear. I turned away. I couldn’t answer him, for I didn’t know the reason myself.

 

**Ink**

I have always found the activity of putting ink to paper relaxing. It does something to the nerves and straightens everything out in the old lemon.   
Even the worst straights seem better after I’ve written them down. It gives them a sorta finished feeling. I don’t have to worry about them anymore, and it keeps me from wondering, and in some cases shuddering, about what could have happened. I don’t mean to say that I forget about the events after setting them down. I’d be hard-pressed to do that. But I find that it does settle things down a bit. 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**Clay**

The others wanted to mold him. They wished to crush him and force him into a mold that did not fit. Some may accuse me of doing the same, but they would be wrong. I may be said to sculpt him, yes. But any true artist will tell you, whether they work with stone or simple clay, that the finished work is already in the material. Their task is only to bring it out. I am doing the same with him - polishing, bringing out all that is good, until he becomes a finished work of art that all may admire.

 

**Definition**

It’s a rummy thing but I suppose I had taken Jeeves for granted. I had thought that I, of all people, appreciated Jeeves the most, but I didn’t really realize how much I depended on him until he fell ill.

He recovered quickly, but his voice took longer to come back. I found myself constantly asking him for a word or phrase, only to realize that he couldn’t answer without setting down what he was doing and fetching a notebook.

I didn’t have the heart to be annoyed when he presented me with a dictionary and a book of quotes.

 

**Barber**

  
Mr. Wooster returned, somewhat aggravated. “Jeeves!”

“Sir?”

“My barber. He’s retired, moved away, without even telling anyone. Of all the bally nerve! And I’d an appointment, too.”

“I am sorry to hear that, sir.”

“I’m sure you are Jeeves, but now I’m fated to wander around with overlong hair until a new barber can be found.”

“Perhaps not, sir. I believe I’m capable of doing the service.”

He looked slightly relieved. “Cut away, Jeeves.”

Pleased, I moved to fetch my scissors. His barber had been cutting his hair in a most unsuitable style, and now I could remedy this fact.

 

**Coat**

He ran his fingers over the fur. It was soft and warm, even after all these years. Carefully, he lifted the coat into his arms, cradling it as if he were afraid it might break.

He didn’t hear the footsteps and didn’t notice Jeeves, until the door was already opening and it was too late. He saw the familiar disgust in his valet’s eyes and he frantically clutched the coat to him.

“No, Jeeves! Please…don’t.”

“Sir?” The disgust disappeared, replaced by bewilderment.

“It was my father’s…” he whispered.

“Oh, sir,” Jeeves spoke gently. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

 

**Nose**

The punch was most unexpected. I am not certain even Mr. Wooster realized that he was going to do such a thing. Mr. Georgefield staggered backwards. Several of the maids, who, at the beginning of the chaos, had fled behind me, shrieked, turning their heads from the sight of blood.

“If you ever say such a thing as that to anyone again, you shall receive a good deal more than that.” Mr. Wooster growled and I stood ready to come to his aid if his opponent attacked. There was no need, however. A broken nose was clearly enough for him.

 

**Eating**

He had always eaten moderately. That didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy the fine things in life. But it did depend on whom he was serving as to how much he indulged. He had served under one master who became upset if his servants drank anything stronger than juice.

Mr. Wooster was the complete opposite. Jeeves had a feeling that he could dine as fine as any king and his employer wouldn’t protest. He didn’t, for such a thing would not be proper, but he did find himself accepting more and more often his master’s invitations to drink with him.

 

**Referee**

“What has happened, sir?”

I let out a huff and sank into a chair. I had been expecting this question, for one couldn’t really hide a black eye. “Remind me never to accept the position of referee again, Jeeves.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Yes, they were both cheating and I told the blighters so.”

“I take it they did not receive this information well, sir?”

“No, they did not, Jeeves. In fact, they were both stirred up. I, having some sense, would have left the scene if they hadn’t decided to join up against me. One grabbed me and the other punched!”

 

**Cape**

“Jeeves, what on earth!”

“I’m sorry, sir. A car passed by closer then I was expecting.”

“Good Lord, Jeeves! You weren’t hurt were you?”

“No, sir, I am unharmed. The wheels merely splashed me with water.”

“I can see that, Jeeves. You’re soaking wet and shivering as well!”

“I shall be better directly, sir.”

“You’ll be better once you’re warm. Here.”

“Sir!”

“Come, now, Jeeves.”

“I cannot accept, sir. I’m far from clean. It would ruin such a garment.”

“Nonsense, Jeeves. What good will a cape be to me if you fall ill? I never was fond of opera anyway.”

 

**Bottle**

Never let it be said that Bertram Wooster is scared of trying anything new, and anyway, Jeeves seemed to like it well enough. Gathering up my courage, I took a sip. It was only through an extreme act of willpower that I managed to swallow the vile brew instead of spitting it out.

“Jeeves, what type of poison is this!”

“Sir?”

“No one could actually enjoy drinking this stuff.”

“It’s the favored drink of many here, sir.”

I snatched up the bottle that’d been given to me and thrust it into Jeeves' hands. “Then take it, Jeeves, with my blessing.”

 

**Illness**

Mr. Wooster had been seriously ill and it was the previous night that his fever had broken. It had been too close. If Mr. Little had not barged into the flat and then proceeded to send a telegram bringing me home, things could have turned out horribly different.

“Sir?”

At the sound of my voice his eyes opened. “Jeeves.” His voice was barely a whisper but he smiled brightly. “Now that you’re here, I might just pull through.”

“I will make certain of it, sir,” I promised him. I then moved to help him sit up and drink his tea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last five drabbles of this chapter are all connected and are an Au of sorts to the previous chapter's Coat drabble. And yes technically one of them is a double drabble.

**Fatigue**

I found him stretched out on his bed, still fully clothed. I frowned. My master is somewhat fond of his pajamas and I'd never seen him, no matter how tired, go to bed without them.

“Sir, allow me to assist you into your nightwear.”

“No need, Jeeves.” His eyes remained shut as he spoke. “This Wooster’s died of exhaustion. Clothes no longer matter.”

“I am sorry to hear that, sir, but even the dead need to be properly attired.”

Slowly he opened his eyes and I was relieved to see him smile. “Alright, Jeeves. Bung me into the old pajamas.”

 

**Familiar**

It was becoming a familiar game. After a fight with her fiancé, Madeline would declare that she would marry me to make me happy. I would walk around with my nerves all on edge till Jeeves came in and rescued me from the soup. I long for the day when she is safely married, and yet…

Bertram Wooster is no adventurer despite the many things that happen to me, and I take comfort from familiar things. She, in her own dreaded way, has become so, and sometimes, well… Sometimes I wished I was the wounded lover she thought I was.

 

**Loss**

It took me several moments before I even registered that someone was speaking to me.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” A man whose name I couldn’t even remember was giving me a sympathetic look. “Still, these things happen. Good servants are hard to find, but a man of your means shouldn’t have too much trouble finding a replacement.”

Slowly his words sank in. “What?” I asked, unbelievingly.

“Cheer up man," he continued. "Servants naturally have shorter life spans, and if accidents happen, it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

It took them quite some time to pull me off him.

 

**Baby**

He clutched the bundle close to his chest, the words running through his mind. _In the unfortunate case of my death… appoint you the guardian of… Don’t worry Bertie, I always thought if it wasn’t for the marrying part you’d make a great father… plus, you have Jeeves to give you a helping hand… Please take care of her…_

The door opened and he looked up, startled to find Jeeves returned from his holiday. “I am sorry sir. I heard about Mr…” Jeeves' voice trailed off. “Sir?”

Bertie held the child tighter, looking up at his valet with confused eyes.

 

**Deceit**

Mr. Wooster has never been skilled at deceit. It was, therefore, no surprise that I caught him sneaking something into the flat. I did not let him know that he had been discovered however, but instead examined the object after he had left for his club. I was horrified to see that it was a fur coat of a most questionable taste. If my master had brought the coat into the flat honestly, I would have settled for cold disapproval. But as he’d attempted to hide something from me I felt I had a right to do as I did.

 

**Memories**

Aunt Dahlia had given the coat to me, declaring that she was tired of keeping it in storage. If I had known that she had it, I would have demanded it from her before now. For you see, most of what had belonged to my parents had been auctioned off after they had died, and I was left with very little to remember them by. The coat had belonged to my father, and there were many precious memories attached to it. One in particular being fur-covered arms holding me close. Therefore, panic filled me upon discovering that it was missing. 

 

**A Terrible Mistake**

“Jeeves, where is it!” My master burst into the room, pure panic written across his face.

“Sir?” I answered, feigning innocence, foolishly ignoring the desperation in his voice.

“My father’s coat! Where is it! Jeeves, please tell me you haven’t… please, Jeeves!”

Ice gripped me at his words. His father’s coat… I had taken from him one of the few things he had left of his parents. I looked away, unable to face the pleading in his eyes. “I… I’m sorry sir. I was unaware that it belonged to your father.” It was a poor apology for what I’d done.

 

**Betrayal**

Shock was the first emotion that he felt. His face paled and he swayed on his feet. Unable to do anything else, I moved to assist him, only to have him jerk away from my touch.

Then came the anger. He shouted at me, his words coming out in a jumble that I’m not sure even he understood. He accused me of stealing, bringing up the times I had destroyed things before. Furious phrases burst from him.

“Do you have any respect for me at all!

I thought you were different but you’re no better than Meadows!”

The words hurt, not because of his anger, but because of the truth that lay in them. I’d had no right to do what I had done without asking him. I’d made a terrible mistake.

Finally came sorrow. He collapsed in a nearby chair, burying his head in his hands. Quiet sobs filled the room. I preferred his shouting to this.

“Sir…” I had to make an apology.

He shook his head violently. “Leave me, Jeeves.”

I froze, wondering if he was dismissing me from his service. I dare not ask though. Instead, I left, making silent vows to myself and to him.

 

**Forgiveness**

When I looked up, Jeeves was gone, probably for good. I told myself that this Wooster, for one, certainly didn’t care if that was so. Jeeves had gone too far this time. I had reached my breaking point.

Despite this, I was relieved when the door opened and Jeeves shimmered into the flat, for I’m not the type of man to end things in a burst of anger.

The coat, resting in his hands, silenced me.

“Forgive me, sir. It took longer than I was expecting.”

Holding my father’s coat, I forgave him, though a long talk was still needed.

 

**Promises**

I’d not been particular upon giving away the coat, and it turns out the man that I had given it to was far from honest. I was forced to pay to get it back. The reduction in my funds was worth it, however, to see the joy that crossed my master’s face.

We talked afterwards, and he forgave me, where another employer would have dismissed me. I knew my own limits. I could not promise that I would no longer disapprove of his clothing choices. I could, however, agree to not destroy or give away an object without his permission.


	5. Chapter 5

**Bet**

“Jeeves,” Bertie looked at the object in his lap. “You can destroy this hat if it displeases you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jeeves was immensely relieved. His master had been terribly childish about the whole matter, never letting the hat out of his sight, even going so far as to sleep with the object. Gratefully Jeeves reached for it…

…only to have Bertie pull it away. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, sir?”

“I have to wear it to the Drones tonight.” Bertie grinned. “I placed a bet on how long I’d manage to keep it and I fully intend on collecting quite a sum.”

 

**Quarry**

Her mother had trained her well. Using her mother’s teachings she had found a likely candidate, hunted her quarry down, charmed him, and captured his heart before he was even aware of what was happening.

The servant did not like her but that was no matter. Once a man loved you he will be willing to do anything for you, including fight to keep you. So it was that nestled comfortably in her quarry’s arms she sent the servant a confident and challenging look.

He glared back at her. “Sir-”  
  
“No, Jeeves we are keeping the kitten and that’s final.”

 

**Shooting**

After a pleasant day spent fishing I returned to my hotel. I was somewhat surprised to find a telegraph waiting for me. I grew cautious however when I saw who it was from. Mr. Wooster would never draw me away from my vacation for a trivial reason, his aunt Mrs. Travers however would have no such qualms.

All such uncharitable thoughts fled from my mind as soon as I read the message.

Jeeves. Young blot has managed to get himself shot. Wants to see you. Come immediately. Hurry.

Mrs. Travers

I hardly noticed when the telegram drifted to the floor.

 

**Jet**

“You want me to do what!”

“Oh Bertie, don’t be like that. Its such a little thing. It won’t be difficult at all.”

“That difficult? Must I remind you that you want me to steal? Which is illegal by the way.”

My words fell on deaf ears. “I only want to borrow it for the dance. That necklace compliments me perfectly.”

Policemen’s helmets are one thing, but Bertram Wooster was no jewel thief. I told her this, firmly.

I should have expected the blackmail.

“Which one is it?” I asked weakly.

She smiled triumphantly. “The one with the jet stones.”

 

**Pirate**

Mr. Wooster had told me not to stay up, but that night I found myself having trouble going to sleep. Therefore I was awake when he returned home from the fancy dress ball, still wearing his pirate costume.

I moved to his side. “Allow me to assist you to bed, sir.”

“Sir?” He looked confused for a moment, but then his face brightened. “Ah, Jeeves! No, no. You must refrain from calling me sir, Jeeves.”

“Sir?”

“My name is Captain Wooster, Jeeves. Dread pirate of the seven whatsits.”

He stumbled and I steadied him, hiding an indulgent smile. “Yes, Captain.”

 

**Book**

“Stuff and nonsense!”

“Mrs. Travers. It does not do to let love,” here he paused as if he found it difficult to imagine how someone could feel such an emotion for the subject of the conversation, “blind one. Without treatment his condition will worsen. He could very well become dangerous.”

“Bertie is no more insane than any of the young people nowadays. Why the boy couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.”

“Madam, I feel strongly that in the case of your nephew-”

He swiftly abandoned his argument when an heavy volume of history was thrown at his head.

 

**Crumbs**

“Happy birthday, Sir!”

It was the first birthday I’d had since employing Jeeves, and I was shocked not really by him wishing me happy birthday but by the small cake which he was presenting me with.

“For, me Jeeves?”

“Yes, sir. I know that you are attending a party at your club this evening, but I’d thought you’d might enjoy a cake with your luncheon.”

I insisted that he share it with me and silenced his protests with a reminder that it was my birthday. I am pleased to note that only crumbs remained by the time we were finished.

  
**Ambulance**

“Jeeves, look out!”

Mr. Wooster was crashing into me even as he shouted. If I had been prepared I do not believe he would have succeeded. Such an action from him was completely unexpected however, and I found myself colliding with the pavement.

If only I had been more aware. If I had not been distracted by how I was to get rid of my master’s latest tie I would have seen the flowerbox teetering dangerously on the windowsill. If only…

Perhaps then I would not be holding my unconscious master while the people around us shouted for an ambulance.

 

  
**Bird**

It was a far from happy Bertram that stormed off the stage amiss jeers and flying fruit, to seek out Jeeves.

“I suppose this was all part of your plan Jeeves?” I asked bitterly upon finding him.

“No, sir.” And the fellow appeared genuinely apologetic. I was unaware until it was too late that bets have been placed upon the contest. Mr. Steggles-”

“Steggles!” I interrupted him. “You don’t mean to say he arranged this!”

“I fear so, sir.” He paused before continuing. “If it is any consolation, sir, I thought you’re performance was of an extremely high quality.”

 

**Maid**

Out of all the suitors of my mistress I have always thought Mr. Wooster to be the most suitable. Mr. Fink-Nottle would drag her to some newt filled country house where she would pine away from lack of company, for I had made it clear that I would be forced to tender my resignation if she chose such a course of action. Even for Miss Basset I will not learn to abide newts.

Lord Sidcup was only a slight improvement. He cared for her, and was certain to take good care of her, if he didn’t throw her aside for his ‘destiny’. With talk such as this one could not help but question his sanity.

Mr. Wooster on the other hand was a true gentleman. He may despair at my mistress’s more imaginative statements, but all couples had their differences. Once they were married Mr. Wooster would treat his wife with kindness and respect.

However, I’m well aware of my limits. Mr. Wooster’s valet is an brilliant man, who is determined to keep his master single. No marriage arrangement of mine would succeed while he is there to plan against it.

Perhaps though when Mr. Jeeves was away on holiday…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the first set of drabbles that haven't been posted anywhere else, though they're still old. They were sorta part of an Au challenge. So all of these deal with a female Bertie whose nickname happens to be Birdie. In this Au Jeeves works for her Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Tom.
> 
> And oh some of these do get a bit shippy so a warning for that.

**String**

Birdie spun around trying to see the back of her dress as she did so. “Jeeves? How does this look?”

Because of her twisting and turning she missed the look that crept into the valet’s eyes and when he spoke the emotion didn’t carry into his voice. “Very satisfactory, miss. However if you would allow me?”

She stood still at his simple request and he approached her. For a brief fanciful moment she wondered what he was going to do but then he professionally reached out a plucked a loose string from her dress.

“There, miss, now all is ready.”

 

**Needle**

I watched her as she struggled with the simple task of mending. Her hands though nimble when playing the piano or pressing flowers were clumsy and inexperienced with a needle and thread and even as I watched she pricked her finger.

I was forced to curb my first instinct to offer assistance. As a servant it was my duty to offer help where it was needed but it would be improper of me to go against her wishes. She wanted to do this herself and prove that she could successfully pretend to be a ladies maid. I therefore just watched.

 

**Octopus**

In all my life I’d never dared to hope for a Jeevsian hug. His feudal spirit was just too great for such a thing to happen. A pat on the shoulder maybe but hugs no.

However apparently there were exceptions to the rule. For instance if I was involved in a train wreck and presumed no longer in the land of the living. The look on his dial when he saw me…

Well it was something I’d never expected to see and the arms that wrapped about me like one of those octopus creatures was a pleasant surprise as well.

  
**Souvenir**

Perhaps I should not have accepted the gift, but the eager expression she bore was hard to turn down. She’d thought of me while on her journey and I was touched. The object, though quaint, was something that showed my tastes more than hers.

Perhaps I should not have continued to keep it, for to the outside eye it showed a sentiment that was not, could not, be there.

The thoughts passed through my mind as I gazed at the souvenir in it’s treasured spot. My hand hovered over it before finally withdrawing.

Perhaps I shouldn’t but it would stay.

**Pottery**

The utter despair on her face was only amusing because I knew that her problem was non existent. With a few simple words from me her distress would be relieved.

“Jeeves!”

“Yes, miss?”

“Jeeves! That…that…”

I simply waited patiently for her to finish.

“That was the pot! The pot we were supposed to get!”

“No, it wasn’t, miss.”

The look of confusion on her face was endearing. “It… wasn’t?”

“No, miss.”

“Then what bally well was it!”

“A cheap replica, designed to take the place of the original.”

Her eyes grew bright with hope. “Jeeves?”

“Yes, miss?”

“You’re a marvel.”

 

**Blonde**

The child’s hair was blonde just like her mother’s. Her eyes belonged to her mother as well, along with her cheerful nature. It was almost… painful to watch her.

I had no choice however. It was because of me that her mother was gone from this world. It was because of me that this child existed that this child took breath. It was because of my failure…

I had abandoned her mother, leaving her to a marriage she did not wish. I had left her to die in childbirth. Now all that I could do was watch after her child.

 

**Vote**

“Birdie you don’t have a vote in this.”

“But-” I was about to make a strong protest but aunts are equipped with glares that freeze the very soul.

Aunt Agatha if possible looked even more fearsome and if I wasn’t made of the stern stuff I would have been trembling in my boots. “You are going with me and that is final. We will find you a husband on the continent and you will marry.”

I could only give a despairing glance to Aunt Dahlia and finally Jeeves as Aunt Agatha dragged me away. It seemed there was no hope.

 

**Smoke**

“Jeeves!” There was a startled cry as gentle arms wrapped around her and pulled her away from the stove.

“I thought we agreed that I would do the cooking?” There was amusement in his tone, though Birdie couldn’t help but give him an ashamed look.

“I just wanted to make something special for you Reg…”

Jeeves’ expression softened. “Thank you.” He carefully began to clear away the burnt food from the stove before suggesting “If you still want to try we could make something together.”

“As a husband-wife project?” She grinned broadly at the idea.

Jeeves returned the smile, “Indeed.”

**Rubbish**

“Rubbish, Jeeves.”

His tone held surprise. “Miss?”

Uncharacteristically her eyes narrowed. “Rubbish,” she repeated firmly. “Utter rot. If you don’t care for me then say it and mean it. I don’t want to hear anymore bally excuses. I know a great brain like yours can overcome any problems we face and I’m not as weak as everyone thinks I am. I’m willing to go through this for you, Jeeves. So answer me, truthfully.”

He slowly looked away. He could not tell her he didn’t care, but he could not give her what she wanted. “I cannot answer your question, miss.”

 

**Worm**

Now this Wooster isn’t one of those squeamish girls that take off screaming their lungs out at the sight of something unpleasant. I may make a disgusted face but no running or screaming was to be done. Therefore when those blasted twins Claude and Eustace approached us with a wriggling worm I remained firm.

It wasn’t as if I could move anyway, not with poor Madeline clinging to me and burying her head in my shoulder. She being one of those r. and s. girls you see.

Coldly I glared at the scoundrels. “If you don’t stop I’m telling auntie.”


End file.
